Protégé
by hannibalsorbet
Summary: [AU] Will meets his new Psychology teacher, Dr Hannibal Lecter. Their relationship develops steadily. And Hannibal has other things in mind that he would like to teach Will. Rated M for later chapters (eventual smut, manipulation and possibly gore).
1. Another Episode

"William."

"I prefer Will."

"Will." The man smiled and Will didn't know why, before he gestured to a seat in front of a desk which was covered with neat stacks of papers and envelopes.

Will accepted his gesture and moved forward with tentative steps, until he was slinking into the wooden chair and dropping his school bag on the floor by his feet. Although the man was standing behind him, Will stared straight ahead, eyes focused on a rather obscure painting which hung on the wall in a large gold frame. He had certainly taken advantage of the spare room he had been given as an office.

"I suppose you are wondering why you have been sent here." The man paused briefly, and Will knew he was smiling again. "And who I am, for that matter."

"Yeah, um, _who_ are you?" Will turned his head and shot the stranger a curious look. He was aware that he wasn't being entirely polite, but he had just been pulled from class while he was applying the finishing touches to an essay he had worked extremely hard on and had hoped to hand it in during that session, well before the due date. But, never mind.

"A new addition to this school. Dr Hannibal Lecter. Acting psychiatrist for the school, and your new Psychology teacher." Finally, Dr Lecter walked the distance round the desk, and was now standing opposite Will, his hands resting on the back of the chair he did not proceed to pull out and sit on.

"Acting psychiatrist?" Will couldn't suppress the question from being voiced.

"Yes." It seemed as though Hannibal studied Will for a full minute before continuing. "The post is often disregarded with little importance. I, however, have managed to convince your principal to look into it. Until it is approved officially, I am merely the _acting_ psychiatrist of this school."

Will wondered whether his new Psychology teacher was crazy. Psychiatry in a high school? He'd either be seeing a lot of time-wasters who believed every mood change signalled illness, or perhaps, not even one single student. No one would take it seriously. "So, why did you call me here?"

Hannibal Lecter sighed almost inaudibly, before pulling out the chair and sitting down, setting his hands on the desk and looking at Will in such a professional manner that almost convinced him he had been called here to listen to his punishment for a typical schoolboy crime he had committed. Quickly, he erased the idea from his mind. He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he hadn't done anything remotely typical-schoolboy in a long while, apart from the actual work.

"I caught a word with your previous Psychology teacher just days ago, before she left for good. She mentioned you frequently in our conversation." Will could tell that Dr Lecter was dancing around a subject that he believed Will would find particularly sensitive.

"She did?" He retorted, sort of haphazardly, just to give the impression that he would not take offence.

"Yes. She seemed rather concerned about you, for you. She asked me to keep a close watch on you."

"Why is she concerned?" Will wrinkled his nose at the thought. Initially, the gesture was due to the idea that somebody was worried about him when he was perfectly _fine_. Next, it was the idea that this particular teacher, who had always seemed to snub him, even when he had handed in a piece of work he was proud of, _cared_. He was seventeen years old and could look after himself. What he had learned just moments ago was almost _patronising_. His old teacher discussing him with his new teacher, telling him to watch him closely, to look out for him. He shook his head at the thought then glanced at Hannibal, still awaiting his answer.

Dr Lecter tilted his head slightly. Will could feel his eyes burn through him, and he knew that he had already begun his duty of watching him closely. "Apparently you have great talent and potential, Will. I have heard that you would like to pursue some kind of career in Psychology. However, she believes you have, on occasion, shown symptoms of neurosis which you either have an aptitude for ignoring or you cannot deal with by yourself."

"Wow." Will ducked his head and furrowed his eyebrows. He was surprised at Hannibal's blunt words, given his previous reluctance to even begin the conversation. "Why are you telling me this?"

Hannibal nodded, as though he had prepared an answer for that very question hours ago, possibly days ago. "Because I want you to know that, as acting psychiatrist, I am available for conversations, should you need to discuss anything with somebody who may be able to offer help. Or simply, somebody who will listen."

Will wanted to turn his nose up at the offer immediately, but felt that the action would be far too rude. This man _was_ to be his Psychology teacher, as of now. The man who would hopefully ensure his success in the field of the mind. He didn't feel compelled to earn an immediate slot on his bad side.

The conversation ended rather abruptly, with Will standing and thanking his new teacher for the offer. He did, however, decide to decline it as politely as he could. "Thanks, but really, I'm fine. She clearly misread those 'symptoms'." Ignoring the unnerving feeling tugging at his chest when Hannibal smiled at him for the third time, Will grabbed his bag, thanked his teacher one last time, and left the office.

To say he was relieved when he stepped out of the building and began his journey home was an understatement. He relished the cool fall air which fell around him, a contrast to the heat he had felt in Dr Lecter's office, and was glad of the complete isolation which Dr Lecter's last-minute talk had provided for him. The only flaw in this moment was the word "concern" which refused to be swiped from his mind. He was irritated to find himself a topic of conversation, irritated that people who didn't know him assumed things about him, and somewhat irritated that his previous teacher had given his new teacher an instant impression of him, one that excluded him from making it first. Will almost growled at the thought, and had to drag himself home, his steps heavy and not as light as they had been at the very start of the day.

At home, Will finished off the essay Hannibal had interrupted and made himself a barely edible dinner before showering and heading to bed without seeing his father. He was probably working an extra shift. Money was tight and Will often felt guilty for not finding a job himself.

That night, Will Graham dreamt of Hannibal Lecter. The man introduced himself similarly to his actual introduction earlier that day, yet when he offered to help Will, Will had accepted. He found himself wandering into the same office, seemingly with something he intended to talk about, but once he stepped inside, the room had turned from the deep red to a dull grey, and the floor was black and fluid-like, though he could still walk on it. Hannibal Lecter was not in the room like he said he would be. Instead, the painting Will had given just seconds of his attention to that day suddenly fell from its place on the wall, the frame shattering and spurting glass in different directions, barely missing him.

When his alarm clock woke him up, Will could not remember what had happened next in the dream.

* * *

Will couldn't shake off the feeling that somebody was watching him. His hands were trembling and his knees felt weak. He rushed to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in a stall, hoping to force himself back to his senses privately. Public scrutiny would only make it more difficult.

He was having another "episode", as he had grown accustomed to labelling the whole thing. These "episodes" seemed to be minor panic attacks which came over him always suddenly and most unwelcome. He couldn't pinpoint what had started this one. He had simply felt a staggering and overwhelming surge of paranoia, to the point he felt sick in his stomach and was concerned for his own safety, as though somebody was chasing him. Will knew that was impossible. There was no body out there who should want to hurt him. And there was no body in this building who would. That was, perhaps, what made the ordeal more frightening. The idea that, perhaps, _he_ was doing the chasing, _he_ was paranoid and _he_ was going crazy.

Still in the stall, he held his face in his hands and put all of his effort and concentration into steadying his ragged breathing which caused his chest to heave. It only dawned on him that he was late to class when he managed to catch his breath. To save the embarrassment of walking in late and being questioned, he decided to skip the lesson altogether and wandered in the direction of the school library instead. He passed Dr Lecter's office on his way and briefly wondered whether he was in there, to the point of considering knocking on his door. What for? To tell him about what had just happened? No way. Besides, he had refused the teacher's offer a week ago, and the older man had not mentioned it to him since, though Will was sure he caught him watching him during their lessons over the past few days. The invitation had probably expired by now, and turning up at the office to discuss anything he pleased was probably now out of the question.

In the library, he found an empty table in one of the corners of the room and dumped his bag on the floor. He spent five minutes scanning different books and moving from shelf to shelf, until he came across a book that would suffice as a distraction until the period ended and it was time for his last class of the day, Psychology.

Unlike most of his classes, he wasn't dreading this one, and it had improved greatly since his old teacher had been replaced. She was the type who would take her bad mood out on the class or whoever happened to be there at the time. And the type who picked out the flaws in somebody's work rather than the positives. The amount of times he had worked hard on something and rarely received a comment in return irked him. Constructive criticism would have been appreciated if she couldn't muster a single nice word. And she had the nerve to comment on his mental health.

Will had spent most of his time in the library seething over his previous Psychology teacher and little time reading the book he had picked out. He returned it to its place on the shelf, before taking his bag and leaving the library.

As expected, he reached the classroom before any other student was there. The bell had not sounded out yet to indicate the end of one lesson and the start of the next, but it was only moments away. He walked straight into the room and made his way to his desk which was close to the front and jumped when he noticed Hannibal standing towards the back of the room. He had assumed that Dr Lecter had not yet arrived, like the students, thinking he was teaching another set of students in a different classroom.

"Hello, Will. Sorry to startle you."

Will laughed dryly, just to be polite and shook his head. "Not your fault. I thought I was alone." He mentally noted how this was their second one-to-one conversation since their initial introduction in Hannibal's office.

"You're early." Dr Lecter commented. His tone was somewhat interrogatory, and Will knew that he was after an explanation.

"Yeah, my class finished up earlier than usual." He lied easily and took his seat.

Although probably only a minute or two, the time he spent waiting for the bell to ring dragged. The silence Will and Dr Lecter shared in the room together was intense. Or it was to Will, anyway. Hannibal had moved to sit at the front of the classroom behind his own desk, and was thumbing his way through a booklet which Will guessed had something to do with lesson plans. Will just watched him but had his head tilted in case his teacher happened to look back, so he could look away quickly and prove himself innocent of staring.

Something tugged at him internally, pushing him to say something about the episode he had experienced earlier, causing him to miss his lesson. It was merely one of many episodes he had experienced, and one of many yet to come. It was inevitable and it scared him. Just as he opened his mouth, Hannibal looked at him, as though he had been waiting and could sense that he was about to reveal something, but just as suddenly, students began to file in quickly, walking between their gaze and breaking it.

Once they cleared, Will saw that Hannibal was still looking at him, but he looked away quickly. It wasn't in him to say what he had wanted to say now - he couldn't anyway, not now the rest of the class had arrived.

Will expected the lesson to drag and to change his mind on the improvement made by his old teacher's departure, however, Dr Lecter managed to make it fairly entertaining and Will was somewhat disappointed when the end of the lesson came about. He purposely rushed when he packed his things away and as soon as the bell sounded, he was the first to leave the room, wanting to avoid confrontation if Dr Lecter had the incident from earlier on his mind.

"How was school?"

Will was playing with his food, deep in thought, but looked up at the sound of his father's voice. He hurried to collect his thoughts. "It was fine." He ignored the truth, deciding not to go through his whole day and routine ("had to go through the day on just 3 hours sleep from the night before. Had a mild panic attack during the day and had to calm myself down in a toilet stall. Was about to tell the school's _acting_ psychiatrist about the whole thing, but didn't want to be diagnosed as crazy"). His father had enough on his mind to worry about the tricks that Will's own mind was playing on him. He had to deal with this himself.

That night, Will finished a piece of Psychology work which was only due within the next week, but he couldn't help himself. Not only did he want to make a good impression on his new teacher (if only to clear the already-muddied impression Dr Lecter had, thanks to a certain teacher), but he found the topic interesting and couldn't stop writing once he had started. He undressed, showered, then fell onto his bed and into a deep sleep which was only interrupted once at the sound of an animal outside of his window. He turned his lamp on and looked through the window, down into the garden. He saw nothing, and reflected on the fact that he had heard two cats fighting the night before and it was probably those two again. For the rest of the night, he slept soundly and woke for school at 6.30 the next morning, mind rested and empty. No single recollection of a nightmare.


	2. Morals and Righteousness

Ever since Will Graham had almost revealed his secret to the school's acting psychiatrist, he went out of his way to avoid being alone with Dr Lecter. He would make sure that he was only by the classroom when the rest of the students were making their way inside, and he would make sure that his things were packed away in time to leave the room as soon as the bell sounded. Avoiding eye contact was not something particularly out of the ordinary for him to do - but he found it was more of a challenge when avoiding Dr Lecter's gaze had been prioritised as a rule and was constantly in the back of his mind. And Dr Lecter _did_ gaze. It was as though he knew what Will was up to and was keen to catch him out. Or, perhaps, Will was just being paranoid again. Whatever the reason, Hannibal Lecter seemed to look in his direction an awful lot, making Will feel kind of uncomfortable and insecure. For the most part, he kept his head down during his psychology lessons and often pretended to be working and scribbling notes when his teacher was speaking, though it was merely his way of disguising the fact that he was going out of his way to avoid catching Dr Lecter's eye.

It was possible he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

But Will Graham was always careful, and never one for one-to-one confrontation. It made for a very awkward scene on his part.

Will was close to tears on realising he had to give in his essay to Dr Lecter. He had completed it early and felt the need to give it in early too, otherwise he'd feel as though he had wasted his time, working on it immediately. It was Monday and he hoped that the weekend had given Dr Lecter time to forget about the incident that had kept him on edge over the past week. Will was glad that his Psychology class was the last of the day. If anything bad or remotely embarrassing happened relating to the moment they had shared just days ago, he could run right out of the building straight home.

The bell rang out and the class was empty within thirty seconds, leaving Will alone with his teacher. Slowly, Will packed his things away, excluding his essay which he left on his desk while he slung his bag over his shoulder. He looked up, expecting to see Dr Lecter looking back, but he was sat at his desk, hunched over papers which he had started to mark. That was surely a good sign; his teacher had no intention to question him on what he had been so close to confessing.

"Excuse me, sir." Will stepped forward, the essay papers in his hand. If it had been entirely up to him, he would have dropped them on his desk and ran out of the room.

"Hello, Will." Hannibal smiled at him the same way he did when they first met. It made Will's stomach turn and he couldn't decipher whether the sensation was unpleasant or, well, pleasant.

Will licked his lips; they had suddenly turned dry. "I brought my essay." His arm was outstretched, but when Dr Lecter didn't take the papers from him, he placed them on his desk.

"Already? It's only due in a few days." Hannibal was now looking down at the new addition to his desk, his eyes already scanning the print which marked the clean paper.

"I know, but I wanted to get it done. Besides, I had nothing else to do and I found it quite interesting to write."

Dr Lecter looked impressed. Will smiled and ducked his head.

"Well done. I have taught many students in my time, but I have never come across many who have actually _enjoyed_ writing essays, so much so they complete them almost a week earlier than the given date."

Will felt quite embarrassed, so he shrugged it off and said nothing more.

When Hannibal continued, Will found himself wanting to leave almost as much as he had wanted to a week before, when he had tried his hardest to avoid his teacher.

"So, how have you been, Will?"

"Fine." The answer came instantly and automatically. It was the response he gave anybody who asked. It was what he told himself when he was in doubt. Not that he cared to admit that he was ever in doubt... but when he experienced those episodes, he couldn't quite stop himself.

Will felt something incomprehensible in his chest, a tight sensation, when he glanced up at Hannibal only to see an expression which suggested he was not convinced. Great. The school's acting psychiatrist had already figured out he was crazy and no reassurance would suggest otherwise. If it wasn't for his feet having seemingly glued to the ground without him noticing, he would have left immediately.

"Fine?" Hannibal repeated and a long pause followed. Will guessed that he was giving him the opportunity to take that word back and tell him the truth, because Dr Lecter knew the truth and Will could see it in his dark, glistening eyes. But Will didn't want to tell him the truth. Will didn't want to be insane, he didn't want his new teacher involved and he didn't want Hannibal's pity. When no response was offered up, Hannibal gave a nod of his head and rose from his seat at his desk, "Good. I am glad."

Will took it as his cue to leave and made for the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He froze; partly because of the unfamiliar physical contact, and also because he was not prepared to speak for much longer. He really, really wanted to go home and lie on his bed.

But Hannibal removed his hand from Will's shoulder once the student had stopped in his tracks, and with a smile that Will had turned in time to see, he said, "I'd like you to keep my proposal in mind."

"Proposal?" Will was angry at how anxious his own voice sounded.

"Yes. My office door is always open to you." Hannibal smiled again, it was a polite smile, and added, "Or this door, for that matter."

Will nodded and made his way out of the door. He may have said 'thanks', but he couldn't recall as he sprawled out on his bed at home and replayed the whole thing in his mind. He didn't want to seem ignorant of Dr Lecter's obviously selfless suggestion, but he also had no interest in speaking to a psychiatrist - whether that psychiatrist was a school's psychiatrist, an acting psychiatrist for a school, or his Psychology teacher. There was nothing remotely appealing about spilling his thoughts and concerns to a stranger.

* * *

Hannibal Lecter drove home late that night, having spent an unfortunate amount of his own time in the classroom marking papers. However, reaching Will Graham's essay had been a relief; a breath of fresh air. As suspected, Will wrote with great passion and knowledge that made Hannibal's lips curl into a smile as he read each sentence. The boy knew what he was talking about and it shone through every accurate word he had scrawled down. He would, no doubt, go far and exceed his ambitions with great rigour. Hannibal hoped to be a part of that success.

The boy's mind was brilliant, but troubled. Hannibal could read just as much. But he was also tenacious and stubborn. Hannibal didn't have to know Will very well to see that. It would take a lot to persuade Will to speak about such personal issues, despite the benefit it would have for the young boy.

And he felt he had been so close. Just days ago, something had pushed Will into almost speaking, almost revealing the secrets Hannibal wished so desperately to find out. But typically, it was time for class to begin and afterwards, there was never a convenient time for him to find out again. Hannibal was certain that Will Graham had been avoiding him, but he didn't mind. He knew that, for one reason or another, he would have him alone again - and he wouldn't scare him away. He'd simply reassure him that being alone together wasn't as dreadful as Will seemed to think. He wouldn't bring up the incident that had been on his mind for the past week, despite his utmost urgency to do so. And, of course, the time _did_ come, when Will stayed behind to hand in his close-to-perfect piece of work.

Ever since Will's previous Psychology teacher had mentioned Will Graham and had shown minor concern and intrigue over the boy, Hannibal had been awaiting their meeting with some anticipation, which eventually caused him to beckon Will earlier than their first lesson together. Although he had initially been against the idea of proposing his help on their first meeting, Hannibal couldn't help himself when he set his eyes on the student. He could tell just by looking at him and listening to him, that his mind was full and glorious and he simply wanted to know more. If he could be a part of that, it would be an accomplishment. He wanted to discover how alike they were - if they were, at all. And most significantly, he wanted to influence the alluring student.

Hannibal's sixth sense told him that Will Graham was not like the others. That he held more potential. He was something of a rarity.

He just hoped that he was as naive and innocent as he looked. Friedrich Schiller once said "every true genius is bound to be naive". And with naivety came a greater opportunity for influence.

When he arrived home, Hannibal marked another set of papers at his dining table and treated himself to a glass of red wine - Pétrus - to help with the light headache that had decided to trouble him that evening. Every now and again, he would frown at a particular essay that would reveal a lack of effort on the student's part. Will Graham's marked essay lay at the bottom of the pile, waiting to be re-read at Hannibal's leisure, simply for the pleasure it triggered in him. He'd have to compliment the young man on his work tomorrow, if he was given the chance.

After reading Will's paper again thoroughly, Hannibal's headache did not improve, so he decided to retire to bed. He showered first, relishing the hot water as it hit his skin, before climbing into bed and trying to settle his body into sleep. Will Graham continued to intrude his thoughts, even as he felt his body drift into temporary unconsciousness for the night.

Early in the morning, Hannibal made his way to work feeling somewhat refreshed and enlightened. He put that down to Will Graham's essay which had been a pleasure to read, and the fact that he would be able to tell him so in just a few hours.

He started to wish that he had walked to work that morning, as the air was fresh and welcoming, but Winter would eventually be on its way, and Hannibal could already feel the chill coming. Regardless of travelling in his car, the cool air was enough to make Hannibal wrap himself in his coat.

However, his vehicle was very necessary that day, as he had some errands to run after work that evening.

Keeping up with two lifestyles had been difficult at first. Hannibal always had to be accurate in every move he made. No mistakes could be overlooked or fixed. One small fault could lead to the exposure of his true nature, his true identity and life - and the destruction of the humdrum life he led as a cover up. There was only a slight difference between his "two lives", so to speak. His cover up lifestyle was detained and calm, and morally honourable. Although Hannibal was the same person and continued to enjoy expensive wine and fine art and music on both sides of his life - the other side, the one which would remain hidden, crossed the line and disregarded all morals and righteousness.

Before locking up his car and walking towards the school building, Hannibal checked the trunk of his car for confirmation that he had everything he needed, should he want to complete his errands without a stop home first. Satisfied, he headed inside and reached the classroom early enough to finish a cup of coffee before his day of teaching began.

The morning seemed to drag but eventually reached the afternoon. Hannibal was looking forward to lunch so that he could have a moment to himself and rest his voice. Despite his longing for time to pass quickly, he was aware that he'd be teaching Will Graham the period before lunch, and so he didn't mind very much.

As expected, the boy only arrived along with the other students. However, Hannibal could tell that Will hadn't been avoiding him and waiting around the corner until other students appeared. The boy's hair was considerably more untidy than usual, and his eyes were heavy and dull. His clothes were rumpled and looked as though they had been pulled out of somewhere at random and carelessly thrown on. The way Will held himself suggested that he had spent most of the previous night awake and had only minutes to spare in the morning before he had to rush to school. Hannibal had to suppress a smile.

For the duration of the lesson, Hannibal's mind wasn't entirely focused on the work he was teaching, though he did not let his distraction show through his words or expression. What had kept Will up all through the night? For some reason he could not pinpoint, he was eager to know the answer, though he doubted he'd find it. Perhaps the boy had been working on an essay for another teacher, but Hannibal was certain that he was correct in thinking Will was sensible enough to have his work finished on time and would never need to deprive himself of sleep just to complete it. After orating to the class and discussing certain things with students who were struggling, Dr Lecter took his seat at his desk at the front of the classroom. There, he watched Will work away. He observed how the curls which drooped over his forehead moved slightly as his wrist worked quickly, scratching the words from his mind down onto paper before they were lost and replaced with new ones. Despite his blatant state of fatigue and lethargy, Will continued to work with that perpetual determination of his and Hannibal found himself wanting to praise the boy for it. Had it been another student, he wouldn't really care for their soldiering through tiredness. He'd consider it as their duty. Hannibal had to do it too, so they had no right to complain. But had it been another student, they wouldn't soldier on through tiredness - they'd be sitting at home or still lying in bed, refusing to be of attendance. Besides, something about Will stirred something inside Hannibal. If he had not always been so professional, it would be safe to say that Will would have an unfair advantage over Hannibal's other students when it came to praise and grading. But Hannibal _was_ professional, and would not yield that way. He hadn't collapsed or crumbled beneath another person's influence before, least of all a teenage boy's, and he wasn't prepared to allow it.

Towards the end of the lesson, Hannibal rose from his seat and addressed the class. "You've all worked hard today, so I'll let you leave early for lunch while there's not much time left anyway. Don't forget, your essays are due in two day's time." He remembered Will's essay. "Oh, and Will, could you please stay behind while I speak to you." It wasn't a question, but a command. Hannibal watched for Will's response and caught the boy's tired eyes. He suddenly seemed more alert, though only momentarily, and then he began to pack his things away lazily, taking his time.

As the students left and the class emptied, Hannibal scrutinized Will from afar. He noticed that the student's hands were trembling, but only very slightly. He wondered whether that was due to lack of sleep or nerves over what Hannibal wanted with him. Will was obviously nervous, Hannibal knew he would be before he even asked him to stay behind. The young man chewed on his lower lip as he brought his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the front of the class, his eyes on the ground. Dr Lecter wanted this moment to last. He wanted to see Will apprehensive and shy due to his own influence. He wanted to savour the moment of relief on Will's face when he would finally tell him why he was kept behind.

And the look of relief was brilliant.

As soon as Hannibal broke the silence with, "I marked your essay yesterday. It was impressive", Will's face lit up. Hannibal allowed himself to smile in return - it was impossible to suppress that smile - and handed Will the papers. "I'd like you to return this essay to me once you've read my comments and seen your grade. I'll give you until the others bring in their work. Two days."

Will looked up at Hannibal gratefully and thanked him.

Before the pair could sink into a silence which seemed inevitable in this moment, Hannibal walked towards Will slowly and froze when there was a reasonably-sized gap between them. Will's whole body seemed to stiffen up. Hannibal noticed, but did nothing to ease the young boy's tension, such as stepping back and giving him the space he desired.

"Is everything okay, Will?"

Will seemed somewhat caught off guard, and it took a moment for him to reply. "Yeah, fine. Um, why?"

"You look tired."

"Oh. I overslept this morning. I didn't get much sleep through the night."

Hannibal wanted to ask 'why', but felt it would cross a line when it came to professionalism. Apparently, that sort of thing was not his business. As long as his students _claimed_ to be okay, they were okay. If only Will Graham would _willingly_ speak to him about such things.

"That's a shame." Hannibal commented, and was surprised at how inquisitive the tone of his voice was.

However, his tone and his fixed gaze seemed to work on Will, as the student shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Well, I'm used to it now. Nightmares are frequent for me. I wake up a lot, and I'm kept awake a lot."

"Nightmares?"

Will looked guilty and regrettable, as though he wished he hadn't said anything. He shrugged again and looked towards the door - either a subconscious gesture which told Hannibal the boy had an overwhelming desire to leave, or an intended gesture which told Hannibal the same.

"I do not intend to pry, Will, but when bad sleeping habits interfere with school work, perhaps it's time you attempt to find a solution." Hannibal forced back a smile at the look on Will's face. He looked wounded, as though he had been shouted at, when in fact, Hannibal's tone had been fairly gentle and calm.

"What do you mean by 'interfere'? I thought you said my essay was good." Will's words were not entirely steady, but came out rushed and expressed his offence.

"It was very good. However, I do not know how well you fare in your other classes, and I wouldn't want lack of sleep to disrupt your abilities."

"I work fine in my other classes!" Will was being defensive. "Besides, there's nothing I can do about the nightmares, they just happen. It's not my fault if I can't sleep."

Hannibal sighed softly and eyed the younger man. If he hadn't been enjoying the look on Will's face and the aggrieved tone which carried through his every word, he would have suffered with guilt and allowed Will to leave the classroom. But Hannibal was enjoying this too much, and he felt as though he _could_ be making progress.

He placed a hand on Will's shoulder, and felt the boy's body go rigid. "I didn't say it is your fault, Will. I am sorry if I have offended you." He paused. "However, I don't believe that you are helping yourself by keeping such matters completely private. I insist we arrange to meet in my office soon, so that we can discuss the issues you are having with sleep and nightmares - and anything else, for that matter. As someone who has practised psychiatry, I whole-heartedly believe you will feel better after talking about it."

It was strange for Hannibal to look at Will and not know what he was thinking or feeling. He looked blank, yet full of all sorts of thoughts and feelings. It angered him not to know, not to be able to tell. He dropped his hand from Will's shoulder and waited for some sort of spoken response - his last resort of being able to understand what Will was experiencing.

"Okay." Short, simple. But he agreed, and Hannibal was pleased.

Dr Lecter smiled. "I am glad you agree. How about tomorrow lunch time?"

"That's fine." Again, short and simple, but it would do.

Hannibal said goodbye to Will and ushered him out of the classroom. He spent the rest of his lunch hour drinking coffee and thinking about Will Graham and their upcoming "session." He couldn't wait to find out more about the interesting student - _if_ he would actually speak openly and willingly.

That afternoon, Hannibal stayed inside his classroom after hours marking work. He looked out of the window; the clouds were grey and heavy and promised rain. Taking his time, he finished up and tidied his desk before leaving the building and reaching his car just in time for the downpour of rain.

He sighed, started the engine and took a business card from the inside pocket of his coat. After double checking the name and address, Hannibal drove away to complete those errands.

* * *

Will spent the evening in his bedroom, listening to the rain crash down against his window.

At first, he had felt insulted, then he had felt upset, angry, tricked, and now he felt defeated. Hannibal had complimented his work before accusing him of allowing personal issues to get in the way of his school work. But the nightmares couldn't be fixed, not manually - it wasn't his fault. And he always tried hard at school, regardless of how he truly felt. Then he mentioned the whole psychiatrist thing again.

Ah, well. Will supposed that speaking to his Psychology teacher (and school's acting psychiatrist) was better than having to see an official psychiatrist in an official building and having to get his father involved in his problems. Through Dr Lecter, it would be more discreet, and that was a good thing. He just hoped that the things he spoke about - if he did speak about them - would remain entirely confidential.

He couldn't bear the thought of Hannibal getting in touch with his father because he apparently has the right to know, or because he's so concerned. And he _really_ couldn't bear the thought of Hannibal discussing him with the other teachers, just as his previous Psychology teacher had done with Hannibal.

In a way, Will had felt forced into the agreement and didn't feel entirely comfortable speaking to Hannibal about private matters he didn't like to admit to himself. But if it would get the man off his case, then sure, he'd give him an insight into the nightmares. But _just_ the nightmares. He needn't know about the episodes, or anything else. That was nobody's business but his, and he wouldn't be persuaded to reveal it.

Tired and bored, Will retired to bed early, hoping that he'd have a better sleep. Surprisingly, he did.

He _did_ dream, however, but it was not enough to wake him or stir him up or scare him.

Hannibal was there, in his dream.

It was strange and when Will tried to replay every moment in his mind the next morning, he couldn't. All he could salvage were glimpses and brief moments which made zero amount of sense to him.

There had been smiling, from the two of them. What at? Why?

Hannibal had touched his shoulder again. And then his arm. His body had automatically stiffened beneath the man's hot touch, but Will only continued to smile.

Then there had been a clicking sound from behind him. A stag. The same one that had visited him in his nightmare the night before. But this time, it did nothing but walk past and then walk around the two of them. It carried no threatening traits and seemed somewhat peaceful and content.

The floor turned to black liquid like in one of his previous dreams, yet the pair remained standing.

More happened, but Will couldn't piece it all together and he couldn't remember much. None of it made any sense, so he pushed it to the back of his mind and decided to shower before heading to school. Today was the day he'd step inside Hannibal Lecter's office for a second time.


End file.
